


You're about to break from all you've heard

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Harry, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:31:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work is quite old, and goes along with what happens on the Tumblr blog larrytweets. Harry self-harms in this universe and no one knows about it yet. Set during the UAN tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're about to break from all you've heard

The ride up on the elevator was silent. Painfully silent. Harry was leaning against the back wall, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, constantly pulling it down as if it was too short. Louis stood in the middle of the tiny cabin, his hands in his pockets, looking at the numbers lighting up, wishing for Harry to say something, _anything._ Harry hadn’t said anything to him all day – apart from a mumbled “good morning” and a “can you scoot over” when they were getting in the van to go to the venue. Louis really just could not wrap his head around what was going on in his boyfriend’s head.

 

Earlier, a couple of hours before the concert started, Harry had asked Liam and Zayn if they could stop tugging at his clothes and pulling his shirt open during his solo in What Makes You Beautiful. He didn’t even sound angry when he said it, if anything, his voice sounded pleading, desperate. It wasn’t just the tone of Harry’s voice that had shocked Louis, it was the question in itself. This is what they did on stage; banter, joking, messing around, making fun of each other. Not once had any of them made a problem of it. Quite the opposite: they encouraged each other to do it, simply because it made their concerts so much more fun for the fans and for themselves. Besides, Louis couldn’t remember a time Harry had ever been ashamed of his body; he was the biggest nudist of the five of them. So he’d been just as surprised as Liam and Zayn when Harry had asked the question in a hushed tone, barely audible, one of the only things he’d said that day. Liam had looked up at Louis after Harry had isolated himself from his bandmates, a confused look in his eyes, as if to say “he’s your boyfriend, you should know what’s going on”. Louis had shrugged and mumbled something along the lines of “he’s probably having a bad day.”

They all had bad days. Sometimes, they just had to let Zayn wander off, only to have him return with an almost-empty packet of cigarettes in the pocket of his coat. There were days that they just had to leave Niall alone while he sat on his balcony, tugging at the strings of his guitar absent-mindedly. Liam would have days that he didn’t even care to get out of bed, flicking through the channels on his tv, watching reruns of the Days of Our Lives. Louis himself had had his fair share of bad days, his sassy remarks sharper than usual and stinging at the edges, sometimes actually offending people he loved. But Harry didn’t even _do_ anything on one of those days. He was just numb, he let everything brush past him, he let people drive him from interview to press conference to concert, putting on his happy mask when there were cameras around. Harry’s bad days would drag out into bad nights. He would curl in on himself in bed, cocooning himself in the blankets and flinching away if Louis reached out to touch him. Louis knew Harry didn’t sleep during those nights, he could hear the younger boy’s uneven breaths and he could practically _feel_ how every muscle in his body was tense, not relaxing for one minute. The thing was, Harry didn’t just have bad days. He had bad _weeks._ His numbness dragged on for days on end.

The first times it happened, Louis had bent over backwards to get Harry to talk about it, but the answer was always “I’m fine.” Harry was always ‘fine’, Harry was always ‘okay’. Except he wasn’t, and Louis knew that. Louis also knew that Harry didn’t like to talk about his feelings and he would do anything to avoid it. So soon enough, Louis gave up on talking and started to learn Harry’s routine, adjusting himself to it. The first two or three days, Harry would always be down. He isolated himself and didn’t talk to anyone. Louis knew that if he tried to talk to him, the only thing he would get was shrugs, muttered and short responses and avoided eye-contact. So he didn’t try. The two days after that, Harry almost seemed… high. He seemed to be in some kind of bubble of silent contentment that nobody could get into. He still didn’t talk much, and he was still secretive, but he didn’t brush people off and he seemed to be in his own little world. The three or four days after that, Harry would be numb. Those were the days he ran on autopilot, pretending to be happy and cheery, but Louis knew he wasn’t. That’s when the sleepless nights came. Until, one night, Harry would roll over, on top of Louis in the middle of the night, their bodies moving together in the dark until they were both so spent they fell asleep, sticky with sweat and come and words that were once more left unsaid, because Harry was ‘fine’. Louis always let Harry have his way on those nights. After a week of no talking, no touching, no nothing, Louis was willing to give everything Harry wanted to take. After those dark nights, things would fall back into their normal routine of secret touches, stolen glances and happy smiles.

 

Louis thought about all of this in the heavy silence in the elevator, and he knew that Harry was on the second day of being ‘high’, of floating above Louis’ head where Louis couldn’t reach, no matter how hard he tried. Harry wasn’t going to talk to him, even if he pushed, and he was going to fall asleep on the edge of the bed, as far away from Louis as he could get. As the doors slid open, Louis decided that he wasn’t just going to take this, not another fucking week of feeling like he didn’t even have a boyfriend, like he didn’t even _know_ Harry at all. He wasn’t going to wait for Harry to go numb and then let him pull roughly on his arm in the middle of the night to take whatever he wanted. It was time Louis tried to break Harry’s cycle, it was time that Louis could take what _he_ wanted _whenever_ he wanted.

+++

Harry could feel the waistband of his tight jeans digging into his hips as he followed Louis to their room. It was nice, the feeling of the rough material rubbing against the fresh wounds he made there last night. It had distracted him during the long day of interviews and concerts, keeping his bubble from bursting. But the feeling was starting to fade now, just a dull ache as a reminder of what he did to keep himself sane, to keep himself from falling apart in front of Louis. Louis had enough to deal with, tour was stressful for everyone, so Harry really did not need to bother him with his lack of confidence and his self-pity. Harry knew he was going to need more, and soon. He would have to wait until Louis stopped listening to his breathing and finally drifted off to sleep though, and then he would finally be able to slip into the bathroom and do what he needed to do to make it all go away.

 

Apparently, Louis had other ideas. As soon as Harry shut the door behind him, Louis had him pinned up against it, lips pressing desperately against Harry’s, tiny hands clutching the taller boy’s broad shoulders. Harry froze when he felt those hands trailing down his chest, already tugging up his shirt, reaching for his hips. _No._ No no no. Harry pushed Louis of off him, quickly pulling his shirt down again, looking into his boyfriend’s shocked eyes.

“Sorry Lou, ‘m tired.” Harry muttered before yawning.

Louis didn’t back off though, coming closer again. Harry placed a big hand on Louis’ chest, stopping him from getting any closer and pressing their bodies together.

“C’mon Haz,” Louis pushed, “we both know you’re never too tired for this.”

Harry still kept his hand where it was, but Louis grabbed it with both of his, guiding Harry into the room. Harry thought he was going to let it go until Louis let himself fall back on the bed, pulling Harry on top of him and leaning up to kiss Harry urgently. Arms came to encircle Harry’s waist and he flinched, because Louis wasn’t touching him there, but he was damn close. Harry grabbed Louis’ forearms and untied their grasp around his waist, rolling off of Louis and curling up with his back to his boyfriend.

“Seriously Lou, just wanna sleep.” Harry mumbled with his eyes closed.

+++

Louis had seriously had it with this. This wasn’t _Harry._ Harry was always the eager one, the one pushing Louis in storage rooms for a quick shag, the one who was always up for round two, no matter how worn out he was. But the boy lying beside him didn’t react, seemed to be trapped in his own bubble. Louis decided he was going to try this calmly one more time.

“Please, Haz,” Louis whispered, placing a hand on Harry’s back, trying very hard to ignore how the muscles tensed at even the slightest touch, “It’s been so long. Just make love to me, please. Want you to feel good.”

“Just let me sleep, please.” Harry answered, barely audible, “Other time, yeah?”

“Other time? Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis finally snapped, his voice now reaching a higher volume.

Harry visibly flinched at his yelling. He snapped his head around to look at the older boy, although his eyes never really met Louis’.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this, Lou. Just go to bed.” Harry commanded, laying his head down again.

“Oh no you don’t!” Louis protested, pulling at Harry’s arm until the boy was on his back, his eyes flying open at the rough touches.

“What the fuck is this?” Louis was now properly yelling. “Fucking hell, Harry, it’s been days and we’ve barely even talked, let alone _touch_ each other, and you’re not even a little eager? Why won’t you, shit… Why won’t you just fuck me already?”

Harry sat up at the harsh, loud words, opening his mouth to protest and Louis just knew that this was turning into a screaming match right now.

“Jesus christ, Lou, stop fussing over it!” Harry yelled, glaring at Louis, “I’m just really fucking tired from driving all day and running around on that stage, singing the same songs and making the same jokes for the millionth time and I really just want to fucking sleep, if that’s alright with you.”

“No it’s not fucking _alright_ with me!” Louis was standing up now, gesturing wildly with his arms, and Harry soon followed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Why do you always do this? You don’t touch me for days and then in the middle of the night you decide that you’ve had enough, and I just have to fucking jump whenever you want to fuck? It doesn’t fucking work like that. What about what I want?”

“Don’t act like I turn you down everytime you… initiate stuff, you know damn well that that is not the case!” Harry spat, “Is it so hard to wrap your head around the fact that I am. Really. Fucking. Tired?”

“Yes, it is!” Louis retorted loudly, “You weren’t like this before. You’d be up for a shag anywhere, anytime. Now you won’t even let me take off your clothes after five fucking days of not touchi-“

“Jesus, fine!” Harry interrupted.

“Fine, what?” Louis asked, his voice quieting a little.

“Fine, I’ll fuck you. Just shut up, I’ll do it, fine.”

“I… Okay…” Louis said, frowning in confusion. What the fuck was this.

“Just… turn off the lights, yeah?” Harry said quietly, not meeting Louis’ eyes.

“What do you mean, turn off the lights?” Louis inquired, nothing but shock in his voice. Did Harry not want to see him naked? Louis had insecurities about his body – his tummy especially – but Harry had always pointed out just how much he loved every part of Louis’ body and why whenever he was feeling insecure. Was that what this was about? Did Harry not find Louis attractive anymore?

“Turn off the lights, as in push the light switch so it’s dark.” Harry answered.

“Don’t go all sarcastic on my ass, I know what you mean. Why?” Louis’ voice was slowly raising again, frustration seeping through in his words.

“I just, I don’t know, I…”

“Why?” Louis interrupted, more firmly this time.

“I don’t know, I just wanna… wanna do it in the dark, yeah? Just don’t wanna see…”

“My body?”

Confusion spread over Harry’s face, but he didn’t answer, still processing Louis’ words.

“Do I disgust you that much?”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “Wha… No! Louis don’t even thi-“

“’cause I’m pretty sure I do. You flinch away everytime I touch you, your whole fucking body goes rigid even if I reach out for you. And then you decide to have a quick shag in the fucking dark at fuck-off-o’-clock at night and everything goes back to normal and just.. Fuck, do you not find me attractive anymore?”

“Lou, no, don’t say that, off course I find you attra-“

“Then why the hell do you want to have sex in the _dark?”_ Louis interrupted.

Harry just shrugged, not providing an answer.

“Come on!” Louis was yelling again. “There has to be an explanation! I’m dying to hear it!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lou!” Harry screamed, “I don’t have one, just leave it alone!”

“I’m not gonna leave it alone until you tell me-“

“Just let it go, please, just let it go.” Harry’s shaking voice was barely audible now.

“How in hell am I supposed to let it go if you won’t tell me what’s-“

“Maybe ‘cause I don’t want to tell you!” Harry shouted, his hands running over his face in frustration.

“Why do you do this every single fucking time?” Louis exclaimed. He was so lost here, he didn’t even know what this conversation was about anymore. “You just… Shut down every couple of weeks and it really fucking kills me and you won’t let me help you and I’m just so lost and I really just want to he-“

“I don’t need your help.” Harry said, so calmly it almost scared Louis. “I can deal with my shit on my own. You do it too, so can I.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own!” Louis protested, “I’m your boyfriend for fuck’s sake, it’s no shame to ask for my help!”

Harry’s shoulders hung in defeat. “I’m so done with this.” He whispered, looking down at his feet. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around, walking away from Louis.

“What do you mean you’re done? Where are –“

“Shower.” Harry mumbled before slamming the door of the bathroom behind him.

Louis stood there, in the middle of the room, listening to the faint sounds of water running in the bathroom, wondering what just happened.

+++

The water splattering on the shower floor, the cold white tiles he was sitting on, the distant thumps of Louis’ feet pacing up and down in the bedroom, the bright crimson fluid streaming over his skin, everything Harry could see, feel and hear blurred together until there was nothing left and it was just him. It was just him alone and the sharp sting in his hips and nothing else. His phone was on the floor beside him on top of a pile of clothes, the screen had gone black a long time ago, but the hate he had found in his mentions on Twitter still lit up like bright neon letters in his brain, reminding him that he was worthless, that no matter what he did, it would never be good enough. _He_ would never be good enough. He had failed so many people and it hurt so much and it blinded him and spilled over his eyelids and made his cheeks wet and he just had to do something, _anything_ to make it stop and there was only one way he really knew how, only one way he could cope. So he dragged that stupid fucking razor blade over his hips, tearing open the wounds that had been trying to heal since yesterday, tearing open the faint scars that he had made so many times ago, and making fresh cuts on his pale skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that he’d never taken it this far. It would always be a few shallow cuts that would heal quickly enough so no one would notice. Some of the deeper cuts had left scars, but his skin was so pale that you couldn’t see the little white stripes unless you knew they were there. What he was doing now, however, would leave big, nasty scars with raised edges that would be visible to anyone who happened to see him naked. But it didn’t matter because he just needed to feel that sting so badly, over and over again, because he had not only disappointed his fans because he always messed up his fucking solos. He had not only made so many people hate him just because of who he was, because of the way he acted. He had not only did so many things wrong to give the media a negative, wrong, distorted image of him. He’d failed Louis. _Louis._ Harry had shut him out, had made him feel miserable for days, sick with worry. Harry couldn’t even tell his own fucking boyfriend that he was stressed out and that he’d had it with _everything._ Instead, he’d been selfish, and gone behind Louis’ back countless of times to deal with his problems by himself. He had kept secrets from him, even though Louis always told him everything, even if he was angry, even if he was sad. Even when Louis had been asking him straight to his face _what the hell was going on_ , all Harry could do was walk away from him and slice open his own skin as if it would make all of his problems disappear. Louis was honest and Harry was nothing and Louis deserved so much better and Harry deserved _this_ , right here, the stinging pain, the red marks that would fade into white, always reminding him of what he was. Nothing.

Nothing.

+++

Louis didn’t really know how long he’d been pacing up and down. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. But Harry was still in that bathroom and Louis was still here and Harry was upset and _Louis should be with him, god damn it._ He’d been replaying that conversation – if you could even call it that – over and over in his head and he was trying to figure out what on earth was going on with Harry but nothing made sense and Harry was still alone in the shower. Louis knew that the only way to get Harry to talk right now was to force it out, and he really didn’t want to, but he _had_ to. He couldn’t just pretend that this never happened when Harry was like this, secretive and upset and walking out on him. So to hell with it if Harry was in the shower – it wasn’t as if Louis hadn’t seen him naked before. This needed to be sorted and it was going to happen now or Louis might just pull out his own fucking hair. So he traced the same steps Harry had taken before until he was standing in front of the bathroom door, his hand resting hesitantly on the doorknob before pushing it down, letting himself in.

What he saw next didn’t register as one image in his mind. The first thing he saw was the shower running, but there was no one standing underneath it. The next thing he registered was Harry’s bag of toiletries, half emptied onto the floor, like someone had frantically gone through it looking for something. The next image that settled in his brain was _red_ and he frowned. The floor tiles of the bathroom weren’t red, they were white. When his eyes finally landed on Harry, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back against the cabinet under the sink, he couldn’t help but gasp and stumble back a little. There was blood on his hands and his hips and it was soaking into his boxershorts that were hanging a little lower than usually and there was just so much of it, so much blood and Louis felt like it was everywhere. His eyes darted to Harry’s face in panic, but the younger boy hadn’t even noticed that Louis walked in, he seemed to be in some kind of trance, in his own world, and he was crying, but he wasn’t sobbing, it was just tears silently falling from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and his chest until they mingled with the red liquid on his hips and _oh god._

“Harry.” Louis choked out, falling to his knees next to his boyfriend.

That seemed to lift the boy out of his trance, and he turned his head, his red-dimmed green eyes staring into Louis’ glazy blue ones.

“What… What are you doing?” Louis asked in a small voice.

It was then that his eyes landed on the final puzzle piece. There, between Harry’s right thumb and index finger, was a razor blade. Before Louis properly had the time to even register what that meant, Harry replied with a simple

“Failing you.”

Louis sobbed and reached out to cup Harry’s cheek and this time, the boy didn’t flinch away, but he didn’t lean into the touch either. Louis’ brain made some clicks and connections and he figured that Harry was maybe still half-high on the pain, not really aware of his surroundings.

“Baby, you’re not failing me,” Louis whispered brokenly, “Please don’t say that.”

“I am, though.” Harry answered in an emotionless voice, “I-“

“Shh,” Louis interrupted him gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah? Why don’t you hand that over to me?”

Louis reached out for Harry’s right hand, carefully taking the blade between his fingers and tugging slightly until Harry let go. Louis placed it next to the sink, trying to ignore the fact that the blood of his own boyfriend was now sticking to his digits.

Louis got up and reached down for Harry. “Come on, babe, get up for me.”

Harry’s hands grabbed Louis’, and it took so much for Louis not to flinch at the feeling of Harry’s hands _covered in his own blood._ He guided Harry over to the bathtub, motioning for him to sit on the edge and put his legs inside of the tub. Louis reached up to turn off the showerhead. While Harry settled himself there, Louis went over to the sink, washing his shaking hands, trying to ignore the sickness settling in his stomach because _he was washing Harry’s blood off of his hands, for fuck’s sake._

He walked over to Harry, lowering so their faces were level with each other, bringing up his hands to stroke through Harry’s curls.

“I’m gonna go get some clean clothes for you, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Louis tugged on Harry’s boxers. “Can you take these off, please?”

Harry nodded and Louis left the bathroom, quickly going through Harry’s suitcase to find him a clean pair of boxers, a t-shirt and some sweatpants. He looked through his own suitcase too, grabbing the softest washcloth he could find, hurrying back into the bathroom. Harry was still sitting where Louis had left him, now completely naked.

Louis walked over to him again and sat next to him, turning on the water again and checking if it wasn’t too hot, because he really didn’t want Harry to hurt any more than he already did. Physically and mentally. He held the washcloth under the streaming water for a bit, before reaching over to wash Harry’s face, rubbing gently to remove the dried tears. He moved on to Harry’s chest and back, and then his legs, where a couple of red stripes showed that a bit of the blood had run down his legs. Louis carefully washed each of Harry’s hands, scrubbing the red away to reveal the pale skin of his hands.

“Harry, I’m gonna wash your hips now, okay?” Louis announced, “Just… Shit, just tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

Harry nodded and Louis carefully reached down. He felt a hand land on his shoulder, squeezing a bit when Louis started to wipe the blood away. Louis realized that Harry was coming back to himself slowly, and he couldn’t even think about what would happen if Harry came back to reality completely, when Harry realized what Louis had just walked in on. Harry kept squeezing Louis’ shoulder.

“Okay?” Louis asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to startle Harry.

Harry looked down at him and nodded, speaking for the first time in minutes.

“Yeah, stings a bit but I’m used to it.” Louis had to bite back a sob, trying to accept the idea that this wasn’t the first time this had happened, that this was a _regular fucking thing and he’d been oblivious to it for God knows how long._ “Just … get it on with. Wanna go to bed. I just wanna sleep. I never sleep.” Harry’s tone was starting to sound desperate and Louis knew that it wouldn’t be long before he broke down so he really needed to hurry and clean Harry up.

“I know, baby, I know you don’t sleep.” Louis said while continuing his gentle strokes on Harry’s hips.

“You do?”

Louis nodded, looking at the cleaned skin on Harry’s hips and realizing that he probably needed to disinfect the red stripes there and put some kind of band aid on it. Harry seemed to read his mind as he spoke up.

“My bag.” He said, gesturing over to the bag of toiletries on the floor tiles. Louis was quick to pick it up, looking through it before Harry took it out of his hands.

“Harry, you don’t-“

“Let me do this, okay?” Harry interrupted. “I’ve done this before so just… Please, let me do this, this is my mess.”

“This is _our_ mess, Harry, and we’re getting out of it together.” Louis reacted quickly.

Harry didn’t say anything to that, and started going through the bag on his lap, getting out everything he needed. Louis just wanted to scream because Harry was fucking prepared for this, he actually had everything he needed to make a mess and then clean it up before anyone found it.

Harry stood up after covering up the bruises, pulling on the clothes Louis had brought for him and grabbing his phone off of the floor. Louis was hovering by the door and he reached out for Harry, because they really just needed to get out of this fucking bathroom.

Harry hesitated though, gesturing to the red floor tiles and his soaked boxers in the tub. “The blood…” His face looked panicked, and Louis knew that he would break down anytime now.

“We’ll clean it up tomorrow, love.”

So Harry let Louis lead him out of the bathroom. Louis sat down on the bed and pulled Harry into his lap. Even though Harry was a bit taller than Louis, right now he looked to tiny, curling in on himself, burying his face into Louis’ neck, making himself so small it seemed like he wanted to disappear. _And maybe he did._

And then it happened. A choked “oh god” fell from Harry’s lips and sobs were wrecking his body and Louis felt the thick tears fall onto his collarbones. “Shh, shh, it’s okay love, I’m here, you’re not alone.” Louis kept repeating like a mantra, rubbing soothing circles on Harry’s back.

They sat there like that for a couple of minutes, Louis just letting Harry just cry it out until he was calmed down, until he was ready to talk.

“I’m so sorry.” Were the first words that fell from Harry’s lips.

“Don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But… But I kept it from you and I-I never…” Harry sobbed into Louis’ neck.

“No, Harry, look at me.” Harry lifted his head from Louis’ shoulder, and Louis’ used his hand to tilt his chin up. “I’m not mad at you, okay? I wasn’t mad before either, I was just frustrated because I didn’t know what was going on. But I do now, yeah? And we’re gonna fix this, you and me. I’m sorry I yelled at you, I really am.” Louis was fighting his tears now, but he really couldn’t start crying now, not with Harry on his lap, more vulnerable than ever.

“N-no, it’s okay you had… you had every right to. I just…” Harry looked down, like he was not sure where he was going with that sentence.

“I didn’t have any fucking right to. You were already so worked up and I made it worse and I made you do that and…”

Now, it was Harry’s turn to interrupt. “No, christ, no, you didn’t make me do that, don’t think that, please.” Harry paused for a second, taking a deep breath, tears still rolling down his face. “It’s just, I get so stressed you know, and I can’t deal with it like you can and…”

“Snapping at the people you love isn’t exactly the way to deal with stress, either.” Louis laughed bitterly.

“It’s just… There’s so much pressure and I… can’t just, perform perfectly everytime and I screw up sometimes… and fuck people are so mean about it and… I-I can’t ever please everyone and it’s never good enough and I’m never good enough…” Harry stopped talking because he’d started sobbing again at his own words.

“Harry, please don’t say that.” Louis said in a low, but firm tone. “God, you’re such a good performer, and you were made to be on that stage, and it’s only normal that you’re not going to hit every note perfectly. God knows how many times I screwed up…”

Harry was silent for a while, probably too tired to even protest.

“It normally isn’t that bad, you know…” he said quietly. Louis frowned. “Usually it’s just like… 2 or 3 shallow… cuts, but I just, felt like… I failed you too, on top of everybody else. Like you tell me everything and I can’t even tell you that I’m stressed and I go behind your back and I … do _this_ to myself and…”

“Baby, please don’t think like that, okay? You could never fail me, and I was never mad at you. From now on you can tell me everything, yeah? You never failed anyone, not me, not the fans, not the band, nobody. And we’re going to fix this, you and me. Babysteps, yeah? It’s gonna be hard, but you need to know you’re not alone in this, not anymore, and I’m gonna be there every step of the way.”

Harry rested his head on Louis’ shoulder again. “Can we please just go to sleep? ‘m So tired…”

Louis nodded and guided them back on the bed, letting Harry rest his head on his chest. He stayed awake until he could hear Harry’s breaths coming out calm and even before closing his eyes. They had a long road ahead of them, but that night Harry finally got some sleep and Louis could finally hold his boy close and he just knew that eventually, they would be fine. They would be okay.

 


End file.
